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finger.
    She took several deep breaths, snatched her arm away, and yelled in a voice unfamiliar to Emory, “How could you be so insensitive?” She plucked the ring from her finger, tossed it at Emory’s feet, and ran from the restaurant into the street.
    The stunned guests looked at each other, then Emory. Lillith, satisfied that her chit-chat with Victoria two weeks ago had been effective, sipped her Moscato with a smirk, and checked her text messages to see if Bobby responded.

Chapter 6

    T awatha held her urine six hours before realizing the unlocked guest bathroom was safe. Glued to the sectional with her legs crossed, she feared moving. Royce texted to let her know he’d ordered Jimmy John’s for her, but she refused to open the door for the deliveryman when he rang the bell. After five rings, he left the food on the doorstep. She sat on the sofa thirsty, hungry, and angry. Royce remembered her favorite sandwich from her Hinton and Conyers days, yet fear kept her stuck to the sofa. What if the deliveryman recognizes me from the news? She had been out of jail for eight hours and hadn’t decompressed. She waited for a guard to call out her inmate number. She listened for a catfight between inmates whose families didn’t visit, or whose families didn’t put money on the books. She waited for the hard bang of a steel door closing, which was accompanied by the clanking of keys. She looked around and found only tranquility. Royce had taken great care to make sure her surroundings were soft, genteel. If only I could move.
    Tawatha knew the real reason for her paralysis: the duffle bag letters. She received many letters in jail from angry mothers, fathers, and siblings who freely spoke their minds about her incompetence and selfishness. After reading several letters, she stopped opening them. The raw language grated her nerves. She collectedthe letters and brought them from prison as a reminder of past mistakes. The last letter she received two weeks before her release scared her most. The writer researched her mother’s name and addressed the letter with Roberta’s address in the sender’s corner. Thankful her mother reached out to her, she ripped open the letter and found the cryptic words:
    Hello, Tramp,
    I bet you thought I was your mother, didn’t you? Well, think again. Matter of fact, think of the kids you killed who’ll never get a chance to have a mother, a basketball game, a snowball fight, a high school graduation, and a wedding. And for what? Just because you were selfish enough to be caught up with a man. That man didn’t want you and probably never did. You were an easy lay to him and he moved on to something new. The news didn’t say it was about a man, but any time a woman gets a wild hair up her ass and kills her kids, a man is behind it. You messed up bad! You left your oldest daughter alone in the world, and you weren’t even woman enough to think about the consequences of your actions. I thought you’d rot in jail and be gone for good, but I look up and see that biracial slut, Attorney Jamilah Greg, has the nerve to be an advocate for your freedom. I’ll tell you what. If you see the light of day on the streets, it won’t be for long. I will find you and kill you myself for what you did to those kids. Watch your back, Child Killer.
    Your Worst Enemy
    The sound of Royce’s key in the door startled Tawatha. He stepped into the living room and raised an eyebrow at her sitting position on the sofa. He placed his keys and the Jimmy John’s bag on the coffee table and sat next to her.
    â€œI’ve been calling you for hours. Why haven’t you answered the phone?”
    Tawatha stared at the iPhone Royce purchased for her so theycould communicate. He handed it to her, paying careful attention to point out the missed calls. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Let me run to the bathroom. We can talk when I come